後ろの正面だあれ
"and we'll tie the tourniquet"
gishiki karasu
Para, para, para.The rain had a beautiful song as it dribbled against the frosted glass of the windowpane beside the child all dressed up in white, perched high on a chair.Gishiki was told that if they looked at the rain while the needles went in, it wouldn't hurt as badly as before. Truthfully, the white-haired one never really cared much about how much it hurt. They just wanted to see what came next.Para, para, para.Up through the tubes, it went, coiling around in a circle; Up, down, left, and around until it landed in the vial perched daintily upon the rack nearby. There were three left, there must have been something interesting among the billions of cells that lurked beneath the paper-thin skin of nothing more than a person who was lucky.As the motor whirred and the needle pressed deeper beneath the skin, Gishiki found their eyes fixated upon the pulsing vein that barely protruded from the skin, watching as it moved, as it pumped.The rain fell faster as if begging for attention that it would never earn. With an eye in red and white -- mismatched and misshapen, they were utterly transfixed.Para, para, para.They'd counted and it had been sixty-five seconds since the needle pierced their flesh. Before, they gave the sunken-eyed man a good stare, as if cleaning the needle beforehand needed to be requested, and they shuddered at the pungent scent of the sterile alcohol.The shuddering stopped when the blood stopped flowing into the tubes. The doctors had told them that they did well, patched the pulsing wound with a spot of gauze, and told them to be on their way. They never wanted to leave this utopia, never for a moment.So...Para, para, para.As the raindrops fell, so too did the drops of the red nectar from their nose onto the pristine white tile. And suddenly, as fast as they'd left, they were in a circle, tissue to their face as if they were a criminal.It seemed they'd be in Heaven a little longer.
seita karasu
Ton, ton, ton.It was piercing in the darkness, something that reverbed against the anxious silence that hung low against the floor like a dark curtain. Many heads at this hour rested peacefully against a down pillow, relieved of a day's labor through the soothing calmness of the night. As the breeze blew the curtains aside, the one with skin paler than the moon they worshipped struck their hand down again. Three times.Ton, ton, ton.The moonlight cast a shadow on red eyes dulled by the throes of insomnia, yet still the drum sounded louder than the crickets who brayed their tune against the emerald leaves of the shrubs beyond the walls.Be still, your beating heart. Be still, and let the peace of sleep whisk you away into its calm arms. The child did it again, thrice, tiny bare feet standing atop the windowsill, above crumpled headlines of the inhuman genius and their hauntingly abnormal twin.Ton, ton, ton.Seita never understood humanity. They never understood how children could want to play in the cruel light of an unforgiving sun that left him scarred and peeling at the seams. If they would heed the call of the taiko, perhaps they could be free of their restless prison.There were five, all less than ten in years, gathered around the four-square court that Seita could never touch. Something had been interesting to them, something that held their minds -- something more beautiful than the moonlight -- in a trance.Their hand left the drum, and rested against the pane of the window, white gown whistling in the breeze from the two-inch crack they were permitted for air. One blink of the eyes that were the eyes of the devil and their drum was struck once more.Ton, ton, ton.The warning of the caretaker down the hall signaled the release they'd craved for months. A release they might never get until the day they died.Seita tried to teach them, tried to teach the children all huddled together and happy about the state of their open, pigmented eyes about it.Sleep.